Balto: Tender Love
by R.S. Dochoda
Summary: I dreamed of her, so many nights and days I've longed. A love not so true but tender and longing, I thought myself would die when the moment was gone. Oh, my love and my life, for you I write written in Balto's POV


**Balto: Tender Love**

By R.S. Mysticdragonwolf

_ Based off of a dream I had of a young woman whom I have affection for_

Last night I had a dream of Jenna. It wasn't one of true love or passionate, rather it was tender—the bloom of a new rose, revealing one's heart to another. We were in a store, a store of sports gear and supplies. I know Nome does not have such a store, and I did not recognize the store. Jenna and I were in this store, browsing, occasionally playing jokes on one another, laughing and smiling as we usually do. Jenna's mom was present, though we paid little heed. For this moment, I forgot myself and I was Jenna's—not a hybrid, but a dog, gay and joyful. We crouched near a the entrance of the store, our bodied so close, I could feel the warmth of her skin, her brown ale eyes watching me when I was not looking—not inspecting or trying to see something I couldn't—but…reading me, taking every breath I took in, every blink that covered my eyes—hiding them from her view. Though they were done in milliseconds, they blinded her, unable to see the only entrances to my soul. Unaware, I could feel every piece of her longing and anguish when my eyes were lost to her; I believed the feelings to be my own—the thought of us unable to love openly, our love a taboo in our society—not thinking they would be hers at all. The jacket we crouched in front was a skiing jacket, made of wool, cotton, and thick fabric, perfect armor against the cold. The color was magenta with a touch of blue auroras swirling here and there, in my eyes—perfect for Jenna's Rosie. "This jacket…" Jenna said, absent mindedly. She turned to me. "What do you think of it?" "Price wise?" I asked. "It's expensive." "I mean the color and make. It was made not with just winter in mind." I knew what she was speaking of. Every piece of manmade invention created since the existence of Man was a piece of art, every man woman and child created something in the days of their lives, their heart and a piece of their soul transferred into it thus making it immortal to the winds of time and space. She knew I saw everything as a masterpiece, even Man's weapons of war also known as weapons of mass destruction were such pieces of art—she wanted me to give an analysis of the jacket. "Personally, I like how it seemingly glows, like the aurora…" I knew then she wanted me to tell her not my technical view, but my personal view from the heart and soul, using the language I unknowingly created through my personality and character. When I am myself, metaphors become my language, mystical to those ignorant or arrogant to not wonder what they mean. Jenna was one of the first to understand my silent shadow…and accept my true light with open arms of angel's wings. I told her my heart and soul, my eyes meeting Jenna's ale brown, our souls touching with each passing word, breath, and sigh. Our hearts ached with each blink our bodies automatically made, those milliseconds causing such pain and sorrow I wonder how we survived. In minutes though it felt like a lifetime, my words came to a slow end. It then I realized I had been speaking my heart, truly to Jenna—all my feelings for her, love, longing, and joy—all she could read in my eyes alone. Though none of my words said revealed to her my love for her, she could see it in the depth of my eyes, the truth behind the walls of will I had created in the years of searching, in search for love. She smiled, not in happiness, laughter, or even joy. But in tenderness, tenderness I had never known, not even from my recent and lost relationship long gone. She reached for my right cheek with her left paw, pulling me close to her, her lips brushing my left cheek, her fur soft against my face. "Ah Balto," she whispered, so softly. "…." I felt my eyes close, I had no control any more. I brushed one paw across her neck, my paw caressing her red fur that felt like silk on her back I felt her lips then, soft and tender, not tainted with lipstick or any other lip covering—she rarely wore any, I love her for that. I gave one in return, in a similar spot if not the same, feeling our hearts beat as one. It wasn't a peck as parents and friends say nor was it a hicky as funny friends like to say. It wasn't even a kiss of love…it was something else… Even now I feel where her lips had been, touching my cheek where I felt them, wishing I could relive the moment again. It was then I saw her mother leaving the store. I panicked, thinking she would think I took advantage of Jenna. But Jenna assured me with brush of her paw on my neck. "She knows," she said. "She knows of feelings, my heart, for you." Smiling now, filled with love she brings us closer to each other, a lover's embrace. Our eyes close, our souls connected in our touch, as our warmth of our flesh collide. Soft sighs come from within our breathing. The space closes…into eternity.


End file.
